


Famine

by DisposablePaperCup



Series: Commissioned [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apocalypse, Canon-Typical Violence, Dehydration, Explicit Language, F/M, Feels, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Let Number Five | The Boy Say Fuck, Not Canon Compliant, Not Romance, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Makes Friends, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Series must be read in order, Starvation, Survival, Tags May Change, Time Travel, Warnings May Change, beans, no beta we die like ben, the only good news in this story: five finally socializes, wise old women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisposablePaperCup/pseuds/DisposablePaperCup
Summary: Fam·ine /ˈfamən/noun1. extreme scarcity of food.Or,Five learns that sharing is caring.
Relationships: Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Original Character(s)
Series: Commissioned [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911238
Comments: 6
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

It took almost an hour for Five’s mind to catch up with his body again. 

He sat as still as the ruins around him, cradling his can of beans loosely in his hands. Normally he’d jump at any opportunity to eat, but his stomach felt oddly neutral toward the food in front of him. He still forced himself to eat it regardless. He had made it three-quarters of the way through the can before he lost his fickle appetite.

The strangers were still there, three of them, quietly chattering together in a squashed semi-huddle. Five had been half-convinced they were all hallucinations brought on by dehydration - up until one had passed him the can and spoon he was holding just then. 

The metal was cold and tarnished, with no trace of body heat or obvious change to the aluminum, so he could have very easily just gone on autopilot and picked up the can himself. Five was starting to seriously diagnose himself with some kind of malnourishment based insanity until his fingers brushed - ever so lightly, just _barely_ there - against the stranger’s gloves. 

They were real. He knew that for a fact, now. 

It had gotten dark. At some indiscriminate point in the time between finding the little makeshift shelter and eating a fire had been lit. The apocalypse was a desert in many ways - the all-encompassing dryness and stifling intensity of the heat were the obvious ones, though the nights could also suddenly drop to dangerously frigid temperatures on a dime. 

Five had gotten lost one night, back when the ash was still so thick it moved in roving clouds like a sentient fog. He’d nearly frozen to death, as unprepared for the sudden, fatal cold as he was, before stumbling upon the smoldering remnants of a fire and greedily crowding as close as he dared. Dolores had scolded him when he burnt his fingers trying to tend the flame, and he never forgot the dangers the night could hold.

The strangers were talking louder now, clearly debating something Five couldn’t make out with the ambient noise and their hushed voices. He opted to spoon another bite of beans into his mouth, slowly savoring the taste - brown sugar and bacon, maybe? Though it had been a while since he’d ever eaten either, so his guess was as good as anybody.

“-we can’t just-”

“-listen, once we get back Annie can figure this out-”

Five slowly tuned into the conversation as the wind whipping around the overhang area started dying down. The first and second strangers were almost arguing while the third just tiredly hung their head.

“-no, it’s not safe-”

“-he’s just a kid! If anyone’s not safe here it’s _him_ -”

“-oh my _god,_ would you two _shut up_ already?” 

The voices all went quiet when stranger number three snapped at them, exasperated. Five had half a mind to just refer to them with numbers but that was a whole problem in-and-of-itself that he wasn’t going to deal with. Not right then, at least. The next best option was identifiable features - also a problem, considering they were all wearing goggles and face coverings of some type.

In the mulling silence, Five just decided on Goggles, Bandana, and Scarf - first, second, and third, as based on their most prominent clothing choices respectively. 

Goggles nervously tapped his fingers on his leg, fidgeting as Scarf rubbed the bridge of his nose. Bandana had his arms crossed in agitation. Five scanned them over carefully, trying to look uninterested as he poked at the small portion of beans stuck to the bottom of the can. 

It was obvious what they were discussing - whether or not to bring Five with them. The subject didn’t make Five as concerned as he thought he’d be, which was a sobering realization. 

He wasn't alone anymore - there were other people and other voices and other thoughts and feelings that they all had - and wasn't that such a wonderful thing? He wouldn't have to go to sleep clinging to the childish hope that someone else might be sleeping under the same sky he was. Never have to hold Dolores and _sob_ because he would never see another living being again. 

Those were some of his worst moments, brought on by pain or frustration and _fear_. When he would so desperately try to remember what another voice sounded like - what the thrum of Vanya's violin sounded like, or Klaus' laugh, or even Luther's 'I am number One, listen to me' voice that annoyed Five so much and he would _kill_ to hear just _one more time_. 

Now there were other voices. Other _people_. And Five found himself content just _knowing_ they were out there. He was used to taking what he could get - scrounging for scraps and settling for the bare minimum - so if they decided he was too much of a burden to bring then he would deal with it.He’d just _deal with it._ He was good at that.

That didn't mean the gentle buzz of anxiety wasn't still present. 

"Okay," Scarf spoke, and Five found himself latched onto his words, "The kid comes. That's _final_." 

Something unwound in Five at the finality in the stranger's statement, and his entire body relaxed significantly.

Goggles and Bandana didn't seem to have any objections to Scarf's decision and Five immediately pegged him as the leader.

A small part of him started planning - the part that still retained dear old Dad's training no matter how much he'd rather forget it. Reginald's teachings were, in a strategic sense, simple - identify the leader, get close to the leader, or maintain an alliance, and the rest of the group would leave you be. All strategy and threats or not-threats and _fighting_.

Five was so damn sick of fighting.

The strangers were moving now, and Five blinked in surprise. They moved their bags onto the dusty ground and knelt down. He stared dumbly for a few seconds before realizing they were getting ready to sleep. 

Scarf stared at him expectantly, "You gonna rest, kid?"

Five paused, not quite trusting falling asleep next to complete strangers he'd only just met less than two hours prior. 

Then again, he didn't exactly have much to steal, and if they were going to kill him they could have done it earlier - and they'd let him _eat,_ rather than take his meager loot and leave him for dead. Not really the kind of motives expected of killers, especially not in their situation. 

His best option was to take them to his home turf, where he knew the layout and could jump away safely if it went sour. It was risky - and the idea of bringing three strangers to where he kept his food and supplies and where he _slept_ wasn’t a pretty one - but it would be better to be somewhere familiar if they decided to go the ‘take his shit and leave him for dead’ route. Still, he grimaced at the idea of possibly losing the stash of food under his desk he’d been piling up for winter. He only had a single box after months of scavenging, after all, barely a fraction of what he’d need to collect before it got too cold to properly go out and search for supplies. 

Was he really willing to risk all that?

Five opened his mouth after a moment, hesitantly saying, "I have a base." He was surprised at how quiet his own voice was. As it turned out, yes, he was willing to risk it.

"Oh," Bandana spoke up from where he was curled on the ground, "He speaks!" 

Goggles smacked him against the arm and Scarf just grumbled under his breath at their bickering before turning to Five again.

"Okay, a base you said? Is it far?" Scarf kept his hands in view, like soothing a frightened animal. Five wasn't sure that comparison wasn't entirely incorrect. 

He exhaled slowly, "Fifteen minutes by daylight. Maybe longer at night. Not sure." His voice still trembled ever-so-slightly - like he wasn’t used to speaking _with_ other sounds, rather than _over_ them. Dolores excluded, since talking with her was just second nature to him. 

Scarf nodded, thinking, “Okay, good,” He turned to address Goggles and Bandana, “You fellas up for a walk?”

Their response was a bit of grumbling and whining, and Scarf rubbed his nose again.

“I have a bed,” Five was shocked at how easily the words tumbled out, “And shelter.” He glanced at the little semi-fort around them and corrected, “ _Better_ shelter.”

Five was almost surprised at how he’d kept his voice steady the whole time, but he found his confidence starting to falter now. 

Bandana rolled over to face him, still lying on the ground with his head on his bag, “You got blankets?” Five hesitantly nodded, wondering if the thin, ragged cloth he considered a 'blanket’ counted. Bandana just nodded, “Alright, let’s go then.”

Goggles just sighed and stood with little complaint, Bandana following. Scarf, being closest to Five - and the fire by extension - moved slower, slinging his bag around his shoulders with calculated, calm movements. Five found himself glad for it, despite his pride rearing its head in offense - he wasn’t weak and he wasn’t _fragile_ \- but he pushed it away. All this nonsense was being done for _his_ _sake_ , not to mock him in some childish way. He was being ridiculous.

Five stood as well, holding the empty can in one hand and offering the tarnished spoon out with the other. Scarf reached out a hand, letting Five give it to him rather than just taking it away. 

For just a second, the tiny, desperate part of him wanted so badly to just grab the stranger’s hand as it retreated - just to make _absolutely sure_ that they were real. That they wouldn’t dissolve into dust and ash and nothingness and Five would be _alone_ again.

Once again, Five reigned it in. He was better than childish wishes and silly, immature mentalities.

“Alright,” Scarf looked over the group, making sure they were all geared up and go, “Let’s get some light, then we can get going.”

Goggles nodded and reached a hand over their shoulder to pull out a piece of wood and cloth, leaning forward to dip the fabric end into the fire. Five instinctively tensed, despite telling himself it was _fine_. He was just being paranoid. 

Scarf took the torch from Goggles and nodded to Five, “Lead the way, kid.” 

Five nodded in return and stood to grab the handle of his wagon, setting the can in it once again. He carefully double-checked his belongings - all accounted for. _God,_ Dolores was going to give him an earful for this one. She always thought he was too paranoid for his own good sometimes. 

Scarf - jeez, Five _really_ needed to learn their names - took the lead along with Five, arm stretched out with the smoldering flame lighting a pinprick in the all-encompassing darkness. It had been like that since the beginning really, with roving clouds of smoke and dust choking out any glimpse of the sky. Five had gotten used to it after a while - not really like he had any choice in the matter, of course. 

The group walked in silence, though the presence of others alone made Five more relaxed and simultaneously more uneasy. It was a constant contradiction that was quite frankly getting on his nerves. Reginald's training was still in full effect it seemed, forcing a ready tensity into his stance - but the grating loneliness of accepting he might be completely and utterly alone, then finding that to be untrue was like an instant burst of pure _euphoria_. 

In short, Five had never been more grateful and _terrified_ that he was wrong. 

The wagon was quieter now, without the heavy can rattling against the bumpy metal, but it still clattered and jangled every now and then. Five found himself fixating on the subtle noise, subconsciously picking out landmarks as best he could with the small radius of lighting and encroaching darkness around them. He took comfort in the fact that he could jump away and hide in the shadows if something went wrong. 

The wind whipped around the group as they walked, sending sparks fluttering into the air from the torch and causing Five to retreat further into his jacket with a shiver. He definitely wasn’t prepared to have to spend the night outside with clothes and supplies intended for the daytime heat. The sooner they got to his base, the better. Five kept his gaze active, searching for the telltale signs they were getting close.

If Five was being completely honest, the library wasn't exactly... _distinct_ \- its flat shape merged into the horizon during sunset and completely disappeared into its surroundings at night. On day 47, Five had once wandered out in the dead, quiet lull of twilight, and ended up stumbling around blindly, completely lost. He finally curled up against the ground and slept until the next morning, only to find he was mere feet from the library the entire time - though he was a bit too prideful to openly admit that.

Since that incident, he'd taken care to know the layout of his base like the back of his hand. Regardless, it was still as good as invisible in low light, so he had taken steps to correct that.

Five stopped suddenly, wagon clanging against the back of his boot. If his estimate was correct, there would be a jutting, shambling mass if concrete and rebar just about ten feet to his right. The three strangers stopped in surprise, Scarf leaning out with his torch to try - though Five was sure he wouldn't be able to see anything without knowing what he was meant to be looking for. 

"Wow," Bandana commented, breaking the silence with all the grace of smashing a plate against a brick wall, "Nice place you got here."

Goggles elbowed him again, and soon they were jabbing their limbs into each other's ribs repeatedly. Five felt a quiet pang of nostalgia rise in his chest, reminded of his siblings for a quiet moment - but he stubbornly shoved it away and squinted into the darkness. Scarf eyed him curiously. 

Sure enough, as his eyes adjusted, Five could see the stack of rubble he'd set up as a marker. 

With a jerk of the wagon handle, he was walking forward again. Goggles and Bandana stopped fighting long enough to follow and Scarf wordlessly marched onward at Five's side. 

He silently mouthed to himself as he walked, double-checking his count - _fifteen steps, turn left twenty degrees, ten steps, right forty degrees_ -

"Do you know where you're even _going_?" Bandana ended his snarking question with a yelp as yet another elbow connected with his ribs.

Scarf sighed heavily, adjusting his grip on the torch, "Just let the kid do what he needs to do, alright?"

Five reserved a small portion of gratitude for the stranger and resumed his count as he walked. He weaved between chunks and piles of rubble that you wouldn't be hard-pressed trying to know if they were there at all - until you were falling over them, at least. From Bandana's occasional hiss of pain and grumbling, he was probably taking a wider berth than Five would recommend. 

Finally, Five stopped, dropped the wagon handle, and stepped forward, feeling for the mound of rubble that marked the entrance of the foyer. 

His gloves connected with the rubble with a quiet crackle of glass and he wasted no time heaving himself up and over. From here the front door was just five steps forward, left thirty-five degrees, and twenty steps forward. Easy. Easier with the torch.

The strangers all took their sweet time clambering over the pile, despite having longer legs and objectively more strength to do so. Goggles had the most trouble and nearly ended up falling flat on his face if Bandana hadn't grabbed his arm.

Five, having found himself nearing the end of his patience, finally rolled his eyes before he set off towards the library entrance. 

Scarf raised the torch to examine the tarp doorway, scanning the entrance. Five tapped his foot impatiently, eyebrow raised as if to ask what the holdup was for. 

Finally, the stranger shrugged to the others and gestured for Five to lead the way inside. 

He gratefully pulled back the tarp and slipped inside, relaxing at finally being back on his home turf. The darkness was laid thick like a smothering blanket, but Five could still feel Dolores giving him a curious look from across the room. He carefully shuffled forward, snagging the end of the tarp and pulling it forward to let the strangers in. He subconsciously angled himself to hide Dolores from view - he could practically feel her rolling her eyes at the back of his head.

Scarf came in first, torch tucked as close as he could stand against his chest to avoid setting the tarps on fire. Goggles came next, then Bandana. The three stood in front of the doorway as Five crouched down to secure the tarps again. 

Bandana whistled appreciatively, brow raised as he examined the room. Goggles seemed to share the sentiment as he squinted at the equations scribbled in every writing material from chalk to faded, purple, once-glittery marker.

“Damn, how long have you been here?” Bandana commented, looking over the stack of scrap metal and concrete piled in the corner from when Five first cleared the floor.

“One hundred and thirteen days.” The answer comes almost instinctively as Five tightly yanked the rope on each tarp together, pulling it at various angles in a practiced motion. 

Scarf inhaled sharply, and Five looked up to see pity in his eyes - he was really starting to wish the stranger’s goggles were tinted. He didn’t need _pity_. 

He stubbornly turned to walk towards his desk, pointedly avoiding eye contact with the strangers as he pulled his goggles up onto his forehead and tugged the bandana down around his neck. Five set his bag down on the desk before quickly checking on the group - all busy setting their own things onto the floor and getting comfortable. None looking his way. Good. He’d rather keep the attention away from Dolores if it all went south.

 _You’re being paranoid_ , she suddenly announced with a sigh, _Nothing is going to happen. Even if it does, you can jump away and be just fine._ _Don’t be worried._

“Not me I’m worried about.” Five muttered under his breath. Dolores didn’t have a reply for him other than a kind, sympathetic look. 

The cold was still biting inside - less so without the cutting wind, but still enough to warrant heavier blankets than usual - so Five made sure to grab the majority of the bigger pieces of cloth to hand out. This left his bed less filled-out than it was before, but he could deal with it.

Scarf gratefully took the thin blanket presented to him with quiet ‘thanks’, balancing the torch in one hand while spreading out his bedding on the concrete. Goggles and Bandana had already made themselves at home - lazily stretched out with their bags as pillows - looking bleary and obviously eager to just sleep regardless of conditions, but they took the blankets nonetheless.

Once the others were comfortable - or, as comfortable as they were going to get while sleeping on the floor - Five retreated to his own bed and sat, exhaling heavily. Scarf was still sitting up, looking thoughtful. Five noted he still hadn't taken off his goggles or the aforementioned scarf and filed that information away carefully - as far as he could tell Goggles and Bandana were too tired to care at that point, and he subconsciously exempted them by default.

Scarf squinted at Five insightfully, cogs clearly turning in his head. The teen just raised a brow, staring him down as he tried to calm the flare of suspicion and paranoia that bubbled up in his chest. 

Eventually, Scarf just sighed deeply, tugging the blanket around his legs and moving to put out the torch. Five got the idea and curled up on his own bed, facing the strangers with one arm tucked under his head and the other tugging the blanket around himself. 

Scarf offered one last curious look at Five before carefully setting the torch on the concrete floor and pulling a sack from his bag, tipping it over the flame. Sand poured out and smothered the embers with an angry hiss.

Then, the room was plunged into utter, terrific darkness. 


	2. Chapter 2

Five was once isolated for over twenty-four hours during training when Reginald had him restrained with a straitjacket in a closet tucked away in a secluded corner of the house so he could practice spatial jumping while tied up.

He spent four of those hours trying to jump, seven trying not to hyperventilate from severe claustrophobia, ten alternating trying to jump, panicking, and resting, and the last three finally giving in to his fate as the - both figurative and literal - closet’s newest skeleton. And  _ god  _ knows how many of those Reginald already had squirreled away.

And the entire time, through twenty-four,  _ torturous _ hours, Five was kept in utter, maddening silence.

The gag was intended to keep Five from slipping out of the training by calling for one of his siblings, but it also served to constantly remind him just how trapped he was. How he wasn’t even able to clearly hear his  _ own voice _ . 

The apocalypse only reinforced his hatred of silence. In the beginning, there was nothing but the crackling of rampaging fires and the roar of the wind, but they eventually faded into white noise after long. The ambient noise became all but indistinguishable from the smothering  _ quiet _ .

Then Five met Dolores. Her voice filled up the void beautifully, and Five had never been so grateful to listen to someone else talk. He could spend hours just listening to her speak - he’s sure he has before, during those nights when mutilated, rotting bodies flashed behind his eyelids every time he tried to rest, and she murmured sympathies and soothing stories to calm his nerves. 

The silence became more bearable then, but there were still times when it became so suffocating - a sudden, crushing weight forcing air from his lungs like a sharp punch to the gut - and Five found himself so utterly  _ terrified _ .

Sound was a big factor in the Hargreeves’ household - Allison’s power downright  _ relied _ on it - and you could never go more than a few minutes without someone making a racket. It was annoying at the time, and Five had often snapped at his siblings for being too loud. But now, in a world where the only voice he had for  _ months _ was his own, he missed it.  _ god _ , had he missed it. 

Maybe that’s why he was so optimistic about the strangers he’d all but welcomed into the life he’d worked so hard to build. Just the comfort of hearing someone else speaking was addicting - Five had seen the way the drugs nestled into Klaus’ mind and body, how it twisted his thoughts beyond recognition. He knew what addiction really was, and this was it. He would kill - hell, he would  _ die  _ \- if it meant he could have the fleeting luxury of just  _ listening _ .

Just listening.

(And if the image of Vanya came, face pinched in concentration as she played whatever piece she was working on while Five laid back on her bed and flipped through a quantum physics book, both just quiet and  _ listening _ , then he didn’t linger on it.

He didn’t really remember what a violin sounded like, anymore.)

Morning didn’t come soon enough - Five usually got up at ungodly hours anyway, but he was especially eager to have something to distract from his thoughts. Dolores once commented that the worst way Five refused to take care of himself was when he avoided addressing what was bothering him, no matter how exhausted or frustrated he was. He thinks she might have been right.

The strangers were still asleep when Five woke up, the sun just barely peeking over the crippled horizon line to start turning the early morning chill to an itching, flaming heat. The light was only just enough to see by, but he still stubbornly sat up and swiped his goggles off the floor where they fell off during the night. His bed wasn’t quite a ‘bed’ - the name was quite deceptive, really - since it more resembled a haphazard pile of cloth and mostly burnt or crusted hard cushions covered in a thin sheet that barely raised more than an inch or two off the floor, so his back burned with a familiar ache when he sat up.

Still, it worked and he wasn’t complaining, and Five shuffled into a standing position, stretching his aching muscles as quietly as he could. The silence was interrupted by ambient noises from outside that smoothly blurred into background fuzz and the breathing of the strangers piled in the middle of the floor, but it still dug into Five’s chest like a lingering shade. 

_ Five, _ Dolores called, stern but gentle all the same. 

He blinked and glanced at his foot, which was subconsciously tapping away a steady rhythm on the concrete. It stilled as soon as he noticed, but Five still shot an anxious glance at the trio still sleeping. They didn’t stir. Small blessings, he supposed.

His bag was still on the table and Five mentally berated himself for leaving it out in the open. In just a few strides he was rooting through it, hissing a string of curses as he checked everything.

All there. Right.  _ Right _ .

_ You’re being paranoid again _ , Dolores said.

Five sighed, only half whispering, “I really hope so.”

“Who’re you talking to?” A voice suddenly asked.

Five turned, startled, to find Goggles sitting up, the goggles in question propped up onto his forehead to show tired, intelligent eyes. Pink marks lined his eyes where they had pressed into his skin while he slept. 

“Myself,” Five answered sternly, arms crossed, “Got a problem with that?”

Goggles shrugged, “Eh, everyone’s got something.”

Five frowned, “ _ Something _ ?”

“Y’know, ‘something’ - something they do or say or whatever that helps them get by. Some pace, some make little trinkets, some sing. And some people talk to themselves.” He said it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world and not some frightening symptom of insanity. 

“Right.” He gritted out. 

Goggles yawned, leaning to double over and grab the toes of his boots while he stretched. Five shuffled in anticipation as the conversation tapered off -  _ anticipation _ , not awkwardness. Of course not. Five was many things but 'awkward' was not one of them.

His face heated up at the amused glance Dolores sent his way as if asking him if that was really the case. 

Scarf slowly groaned and sat up, pulling his goggles up and over his head and rubbing his face. Goggles reached over to shake Bandana awake, who evidently was unhappy with the sudden light in his eyes and grumbled, rolling over and sending Goggles a rude gesture.

Five watched all this with slight amusement, one brow quirked as he leaned back on the desk. Bandana cursed more at the teen's casual reaction and flicked him the same gesture too. Goggles made an indignant noise and slapped the other man's hand down. 

Scarf rolled his eyes and turned to Five, "Morning, kid. You awake enough to hear the game plan?"

Five shrugged in an attempt to hide his burning curiosity, "Go ahead."

"Okay, so our base is maybe a few hours from here. We've got supplies and a pretty decent setup," he gestured at the other two, "We can take you there and you can see if you want to join our group. If not we can bring you back here and leave it at that."

Five narrowed his eyes, "How many people?"

"Hm?"

"How many people," he reiterated, "At the base."

"Oh, right. About twenty." Scarf answered earnestly. 

Five’s heart fluttered something fierce, mind running through the implications of that - more people, more voices, more sound, more  _ people _ \- because if there was any doubt left he knew for sure that from now on he wouldn’t be alone. 

Even if  _ something  _ happened - even if a sinkhole decided to open it’s cragged maw and swallow the three strangers whole, even if the sun decided to suddenly set the library and its occupants ablaze with no water to ease their suffering, even if a simple cut was infected with the dust and infested air and slowly brought them to their knees, even if, if,  _ if _ \- there were others. 

Five wouldn’t be alone, not unless the world itself decided to fold in on itself and crush them like pests. All or none. 

_ All or none. _

There was an odd, morbid sense of comfort in that. Five decided not to think about it too hard, as if the concept would crumble and slip through his fingers if he did.

“Oh,” Scarf blinked, “Right. What’s your name kid? I feel weird just calling you ‘kid’, honestly.”

Five’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, suspicion twisting in his gut despite having already made up his mind the night before, “Five.”

Bandana scoffed, “You’re joking.” The teen glared at him, “You’re not joking. Huh. Well, I’ve heard weirder.” The man shrugged and resumed picking idly at the dust under his fingernails. 

Goggles rolled his eyes in that long-suffering manner that conveyed he’d been dealing with Bandana’s attitude for a long time. Scarf sighed and turned back to Five.

“Okay, names, right. That’s Julian,” He pointed at Bandana, “Cecil,” Goggles waved, smiling, “And you can call me Tobias. Or Toby. Whichever one works.”

Five thought for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. It was nice to be able to put names to faces, despite them having little significance other than identification - there was little reason to  _ need  _ a name in their new brand of world, after all. 

“So, Five,” Scarf -  _ Toby _ , Dolores subtly corrected - started, “We’re planning on heading over to the base, you can check it out, and then if you like we can get you settled in.”

Oh, right. He had mentioned that. 

Five rolled the idea around in his head, biting the side of his cheek - an old habit Allison had once teasingly pointed out when he was deep in thought.  (He’d give anything to hear her biting wit just one more time.)

He slowly nodded, pros and cons arranging themselves in his mind as he considered the outcomes of this decision, “Alright. I’ll come. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll come.”

Toby smiled reassuringly, and Goggles -  _ Cecil  _ \- grinned widely, clapping his hands together in excitement. Banda- _ Julian  _ just grumbled and roughly snatched his pack off the ground. 

Five felt something oddly similar to happiness rising in his chest. That was absurd of course, since Five wasn’t aiming for ‘happy’ - he aimed for  _ survival _ first and foremost. Not ‘happy’. 

Never ‘happy’.

Still, the idea of possibly living somewhere where other people were there to talk to and - dare he think it -  _ befriend _ was incredibly freeing. It felt like an eternity since he had that kind of freedom. 

Toby pulled his bag onto his shoulders and nudged the pile of sand and the torch underneath with his toe - Five had all but forgotten it was there. The torch was presumably deemed too ashy and burnt away to be reusable and Toby left it. Cecil and Julian had gotten their packs as well and Cecil was fussing over the other man’s clothes, while Julian tried to ineffectually bat his hands away.

Five’s eyebrows raised marginally at that small act of fond affection, but he shrugged it off - the strangers had probably all been traveling together for a while, and he knew from experience that every group needed a good caretaker.

(Klaus would have called it a ‘mom friend’, but Five ignored the small, childish urge to equate the phrases.)

He stood in thought for a second while the two men bickered and Scarf counted on his fingers for a reason Five couldn’t bother with before turning and grabbing his own things off the desk. A few moments later and he was outfitted to go outside again, supplies on his back and bandana wrapped around his face. His goggles were caked with sand and ash so he quickly swiped the lenses with his thumb before sliding them into place atop his head.

The movement caused him to brush his hair and he grimaced. It was wild and tangled hopelessly despite its short length, dust buried against the roots and flaking away with every movement of his head. He had found himself strongly wishing for a shower on occasion - especially at times when he worked on equations, running his hand through his hair as a habit, and his hand would come away covered in a layer of grime. 

However, as uncomfortable as it was, it once again was just something he had to deal with. He was good at dealing with things. He didn’t have the luxury of complaining. 

“Alright,” Toby said, looking everyone over, “We ready?”

Five nodded, glancing at Dolores out of the corner of his eye and whispering, “ _ Be back soon. _ ” from under his bandana. 

Dolores gave him a fond look in return, a hopeful smile brightening her face. 

Then the group funneled out into the early morning heat and started walking.

The trip was uneventful, for the most part. Cecil was happy to recount stories from Before - Before the world turned to fire, Before the water was poisoned with ash, Before the  _ end _ \- which all seemed to involve a staggeringly large amount of geese. This was mainly odd in the fact that Cecil worked as a small-business electronics repairman, so it wouldn’t have been easy to end up with, as he claimed,  _ thirty-four _ geese in his garage on  _ eight  _ separate occasions. 

It was a wild, outlandish accident, apparently - something to do with the neighbor transporting his farm animals in batches over the course of a month and a series of rainstorms - but Five was more than content to listen to the man ramble on regardless of the story, Julian adding input every now and then with a grumbling tone of voice.

Toby seemed to be in heavy contemplation, though what of Five couldn’t tell and wasn’t particularly interested in knowing. He was fine being quiet while Cecil and Julian got into another elbow-fight. Cecil started it this time when Julian insisted he exaggerated the amount of geese. Five didn’t really see what the issue was - one goose or one dozen, they were sadistic, rotten little menaces. 

He got a hearty laugh from Cecil when he relayed his sentiment with a grumpy mutter. It was almost  _ shocking _ \- laughter was few and far between in the Hargreeves’ household, where discipline and training reigned and Reginald’s word was law. 

Klaus was usually the supplier of the more joyous emotions, seemingly buzzing with excitement like a puppy meeting someone new at all times, though Five had vague memories of earlier times. Those took place before training started, officially - when Luther and Diego were the only ones to know of their powers and they would often sit together, reading or talking or, in Klaus, Vanya, and Allison’s cases, exchanging the meager gossip they had and doing makeovers with Grace’s cosmetics.

Something dull and warm beat in the middle of his chest when the memories surfaced, melancholic and nostalgic all the same.

“We’re here,” Toby suddenly called, drawing Five out of his thoughts with a jolt.

The expanse in front of them was covered in debris, the remains of buildings scattered in chunks like a child playing with their wooden blocks, stretching a good few hundred yards in front of them. There were few remnants of any viable structure, though from what Five could tell it used to be an apartment building or two next to a park or parking lot. The dust and ash shielded most clues from plain sight. 

All in all, it was certainly big enough to hold a base.

That same melancholic ache started pulsing, pounding so heavily and so fiercely that a jolt of fear shot through Five before he realized that it was just his heartbeat. He was nervous. That was all. But god, if  _ that _ wasn’t a foreign sensation. 

Toby shuffled around his pack before withdrawing a plastic whistle, dull yellow, with a crack on the front. He gave Five a meaningful, warning glance before tugging his scarf down and giving the whistle three sharp, halting puffs of air.

Five composed himself enough not to wince, but the sound was still sudden and squealing, the tool obviously damaged from where it was cracked and from the dust likely settled inside. It grated sharply in the quiet, and quite frankly resembled a dying, mutilated rat being scraped along a rusty cheese grater.

The teen grimaced at the imagery brought to mind.

There was a moment of suspenseful pause, where nobody seemed to even  _ breathe _ . The sudden silence sent a dull spike of anxiety jutting into Five’s gut even as he angrily shoved it away.

Then, after what seemed like a damn-near eternity of waiting, the whistle was returned by an - albeit smoother-sounding - identical call, echoing out over the ruins. Toby signaled back again, this time two long whistles and one short one. 

Another pause, shorter this time, and the call was returned. The three strangers all relaxed marginally, and Five’s shoulders dropped in subconscious relief. Cecil smiled, giving Five a reassuring look as Toby led them forward, weaving through a thin path in the rubble. 

It was eerily similar to the way Five would carefully squeeze into the hollowed skeletons of old buildings and homes to scavenge, where the walls were nothing but dull concrete and the sun blazed mercilessly, sending sweat creeping down his spine with a shiver. But at least in this case there was an end goal - and soon the rubble started easing into what Five could easily recognize as an attempt to clear it away. Little bits of human influence plain as black paint on a white wall - when you knew how to look for it.

And Five had been looking for a long time. 

Toby stopped walking and turned to face them, “Okay, stay here, I’m gonna go explain the situation.”

Five nodded somewhat numbly, trying to resist the urge to strain to see around Julian and Cecil in front of him. The rubble around them acted as a mock-hallway of sorts, wrapping around some unidentifiable space until it curved from view at the corner. It was almost like a doorway - or, Five realized, like a wall. 

The others shuffled somewhat restlessly, and Five bit back a scowl as they waited. He hated waiting. 

Then, voices. 

Five nearly didn’t recognize the sound for what it was. But it was  _ voices _ \- overlapping and chattering and very obviously excited, for better or for worse, and just  _ talking _ . It was, quite frankly, beautiful. 

Toby was back soon enough, grinning excitedly and waving to lead them forward.

The clearing ahead was a nearly shock-inducing contrast to the untamed rubble and destruction that decorated Five’s base like the world’s most hazardous lawn decorations. 

The ground - the actual, dirt-and-dust  _ ground _ \- was visible, for one. Any chunks of rubble were either stacked away to the sides or, presumably, integrated into the wall. Structures had been carefully constructed out of the larger, thinner slabs and less damaged pieces of rebar and scaffolding, with cloth or plastic sheets covering doorways. 

Then there were the people.

Five could only count fifteen as he looked, wide-eyed, at the encampment. Three adults were conversing quietly next to a hut while two others were sorting bits and pieces of wood. He counted one child and two teens, all of which were weaving something-or-other from strips of fabric on one side, though they seemed more interested in staring at Five conspiratorially. Three more adults were scattered about, doing various tasks that Five’s brain scrambled to register. He felt dizzy. Overwhelmed.

Toby had jogged forward to talk with four others, all clearly leaving a respectful space for an older woman in the middle. Cecil gave Five another smile, reaching forward to pat him on the arm before thinking better of it and aborting the motion. Five squashed the pang of disappointment before it could get bigger.

“Five.” Toby called, and the teen snapped to attention from years of ingrained practice. 

The man gestured him forward, stepping back to let the four other adults take the stage while Julian meandered forward to greet one with a clap on the back. 

“Hello,” The woman spoke suddenly, and Five felt a nostalgic shiver run down his spine. She reminded him of Grace, if Grace was capable of aging, “You’re Five, correct?”

The teen hummed stiffly, picking the woman apart under his gaze. If she noticed his scrutiny, she gave no reaction. 

“My name is Annie. I suppose you could call me the leader of our little group.” Her eyes crinkled in a smile that he was sure was hidden under her dusty shawl, full of motherly warmth and Five got the odd sense that if he could smell anything other than ash and dry air she would smell like cinnamon.

“We’re very excited to have you if you’re interested,” Annie said, somewhat cryptically.

Five frowned thoughtfully. His mind ran through the pros and cons again, benefits and costs. In theory, it was a simple matter of mathematics, supplies, capability, and intellect. In theory, he would be more mobile moving on his own, better at keeping himself and only himself fed, and not needing to worry about anyone’s safety but his own. In theory, just the knowledge that other intelligent life existed alongside him, even unseen, would be enough to keep him sane.

Then again, in this theoretical world, Five had no emotions to speak of.

(He missed them. His family. He missed Luther’s boasting and Diego's brooding and Allison’s pettiness. He missed Klaus’ childishness and Ben’s shyness and Vanya’s invisible presence. 

He missed the worst of them, and in a world where the worst was all that was left, he would settle for much, much less.)

In this world, Five had already made up his mind.

“Yes.” He said, resolve hardening like quick-dry cement, rock-solid and sturdy, “ _ Yes _ .”

And Annie smiled. Cecil practically squealed and clapped his hands excitedly while Julian just gruffly shrugged. Toby gave Five a wave, and the group started chattering again, animated and everywhere and  _ alive _ .

And Five, who knew weakness was to be abhorred and happiness was a commodity, allowed himself the slightest of smiles.

He had a family again. They were broken and dusty and more than a little messed up, but Five was used to families like that. He’d only even known a family like that. And soon, maybe, he could get his old family back too.

And he smiled, only slightly. It didn’t fit right, because it never did, and it wrapped awkwardly around his face like a hairline fracture in a porcelain mask. It was unwieldy and foreign and probably as unnerving as his siblings always said it was, but it was there, sliding over the serious facade he always wore like donning his familiar black domino mask.

But maybe, just maybe, he could let his mask slip for a little while. 

**Author's Note:**

> okay, SO.
> 
> I spent almost 2 full hours researching the effects of meteorite impacts and based off my shitty math, the meteorite that hit at the end of season 1 was just about 13,441,155 Cubic Miles wide.
> 
> which, after a bunch of calculations and comparisons to other meteorite strikes, just about equals 'total and complete decimation of all sources of food, water, the Earth's magnetic field, the ozone layer, and atmosphere, as well as the destruction of every single remaining bit of matter, organic or not, that can't withstand 1000+ Farenheight temperatures during and after impact'.
> 
> Or, in layman's terms, 'absolute 0% chance of survival'. 
> 
> I promise I have an excuse as to why there's life and survival and junk but that comes a bit later so stay tuned for me spewing pseudoscience bullshit :D
> 
> TL;DR: Earth + massive moon rock = instant spicy Earth puree


End file.
